Why I Don't Like You

Chapter 1: Because freedom would be nice

Liz' POV

Today was my birthday. 17. My kidnap was almost 11 years ago. 11 years full of the most horrible things.

'Happy birthday Liz!' Marge walked into the basement. Her black and grey hair was in a tight knot. Her purple dress was slightly wrinkled. Marge was 44 years old. She was a mother-figure and a great role model.

I still lived in the basement. The only change is that I don't have to stand on my toes anymore. There is still barely any light and it is very cold.

'He wants to see you.' We always referred to him as He or Him. I used to call him the tall man, but as I grew up I noticed that he was actually pretty small. I guess he just seemed tall because I was so small.

I didn't look forward to seeing him at all. Birthdays were the worst. More things to do, because it had to be a special day. He wasn't nice at all. I looked at the scar from the gunshot on Marges arm. That happened on the day she stood up for me. She thought it went to far to let me clean the toilet with my own toothbrush. After Marge stood up for me, he shot her. And I had to clean the toilet with my fingers.

'Hello, Liz! You look horrible as always, even though it's your birthday. And you are getting fat, so to make this day even more special, you don't get food. The only thing you can get is one glass of water every 5 hours.' He smiled. 'Oh, and my friends are visiting so you have to prepare dinner!' he blew a grey hair out of his face. The day I first saw him, he had brown hair. But as the years passed it turned grey. He had brown eyes, no sparkle. I hated everything about Him. His hair, his eyes, his mouth and of course his mind. I think I will never meet someone with a mind like his again. I hope I will never meet someone with a mind like his again.

He looked at me. First at my hair, then at my clothes and at last right in my eyes. I looked away.  

I was wearing a T-shirt with a crack in the front, just above my hips. My pants were torn apart, so it would fit longer. But my clothes had one thing in common: they were dirty. Marge only got the chance to wash them when He was away. She was also the person who bought my clothes. After I grew out of the clothes I was wearing on the day of my kidnap, I needed new ones. He only wanted me to have one pair of clothes. And his will is the law for us.

In the winter I was mostly freezing. The basement had no heather, so that was pretty cold. In the winter rolling in the snow was one of my punishments I had when I refused to do something. It was snowing outside. I already rolled through the snow multiple times. I looked through the window. This was the kind of day that I would go out with my mother to have a snow fight. I missed her. Just how she smelled, looked and talked.

'Come on sit down, it's time for your glass of water.' He laughed. He was eating a boiled egg and pancakes. The smell reached my nose. Another torture. My stomach started to grumble, which made him laugh even harder.

He turned on the old radio that was standing by the window.

'Goodmorning America! Today is another cold day full of snow, and for some of us this day is sad as well! Today we've got a special guest in the studio. Jenna's daughter Liz disappeared almost 11 years ago, and no one has a clue were she is. Today it's Liz' birthday. Welcome Jenna! How are you?'

'Thanks! I'm managing.' my eyes filled with tears. Hearing my mothers voice again after 11 years was shocking. It brings up a lot of memories. "Of course you can have a cookie sweetheart!", "which story do you want next? The Little Mermaid? That's your favorite isn't it?"

'It is already 11 years ago! Are you still searching her and missing her?'

'I will always miss Liz. it's hard to see her empty room. About the searching,' her voice broke 'the cops told me to stop, but I never did, of course. They searched for such a long time. I can't blame them for stopping. They did what they could do. They can stop, but I never will.' Tears streamed down my face. It was good to know that there was someone looking for me. I have always wondered what she did after I was kidnapped, if she even cared. But she does, of course she does. She is my mother.